Wonders
by Griselda Banks
Summary: Oneshot. Whole Shards. It's the first Christmas Steve and Bucky have spent together, knowing who they are. After everything they've been through - not least what they went through LAST Christmas - it doesn't take much for this year to improve on the last. But all things being equal, this might still end up the best Christmas they've ever had. BrooklynBrotp.


**Author's Note: I wasn't planning on doing anything like this, but then my dear friend CapGirlCanuck wanted to know how the first Christmas after the reveal would go...and how could I resist? :D If you've stumbled upon this without having read my fics **_**Make Me Whole**_** and **_**Shards of Me,**_** this oneshot takes place after them and includes references to their events, so it probably won't make a whole lot of sense unless you've read at least **_**Make Me Whole.**_** At first I wasn't sure I would have enough to say to warrant writing a whole fic about this, but...then I hit on the flangst potential :P**

* * *

_He rules the world with truth and grace  
__And makes the nations prove  
__The glories of his righteousness  
__And wonders of his love  
__And wonders of his love  
__And wonders, wonders of his love_

_\- "Joy to the World"_

* * *

Steve cracked his eyes open and looked at the alarm clock gleaming red in the darkness. 5:37 a.m. December 25, 2015. Christmas morning.

_Winter sat staring at the keys in his hand as Steve spoke, but suddenly he got to his feet. He met Steve's eyes deliberately, then threw the keys down at Steve's feet. He turned on his heel and stomped back upstairs without a word._

Steve sighed and closed his eyes against the memories. _Stupid,_ he told himself. _Don't think about that. It all turned out fine, remember? Just think about _this_ year._

Natasha, Wanda, and Vision had all gone to spend a week on the Bartons' farm, and Tony and Rhodey were both spending Christmas with their families. That had left Steve, Bucky, and Sam with the Avengers complex all to themselves. They weren't too keen on a repeat of all the stress after Thanksgiving, so they'd decided to sit this gathering out. Besides, all the Avengers were going to get together for a New Year's party, so they would see everyone then.

Of course, Sam had invited them to spend Christmas with his family. Steve and Bucky had ultimately decided to spend Christmas Day itself in the empty Avengers complex, but they'd joined the Wilson family for Christmas Eve.

Steve smiled to himself as memories of the previous day filled his mind. Meeting Sam's younger sister, Sarah, and her husband and three kids. Seeing Darlene again. Giving endless piggyback and horsie rides to the kids, who had taken a liking to him immediately. Discovering that Bucky knew some sign language (when had he learned _that?_) when he started signing to Sarah's daughter Naomi, who was deaf.

Delicious food...laughter...a dozen conversations happening at once as everyone talked over each other...and then the Christmas Eve service at Darlene's church. It was so different from any church service he could remember going to, and he didn't always know the words or when he was supposed to say _Amen,_ but they still lit candles and sang "Silent Night" at the end of it. He remembered meeting Bucky's eyes as he turned to light his candle. They smiled, singing a song they still knew the words to, the candlelight glittering in their eyes.

So much better than...

_Light still spilled out of the open bathroom door, revealing a small but steadily growing puddle of blood oozing across the white tiles. Steve raced into the bathroom and stared, aghast, at the man lying on the floor._

With a sigh, Steve rolled over—and found himself face-to-face with Bucky.

Bucky, who lay huddled under the blankets on the other side of the bed, cracked open one eye. "No dreams of sugar-plums 'n...whatever?" he mumbled sleepily.

Steve chuckled, the ghosts of the past evaporating immediately. "So _you're_ the reason I'm awake at this ungodly hour on Christmas morning?"

"I was cold," Bucky pouted defensively, scootching closer and pulling the covers up so only his eyes could be seen.

Steve smiled. "I guess I can fix that." He pulled Bucky closer, wrapping his arms around him and letting him burrow his ice-cold nose into Steve's neck.

They lay like that for a few minutes, until Bucky mumbled, "That's one thing I didn't have to worry about last winter. My face never got cold."

The smile fell from Steve's lips. They were back to those haunting memories again. Last year, the cold hadn't just come from the snowy weather. The air between him and Winter had been frigid.

Something about his breathing or his heart rate must have changed, because Bucky suddenly raised his head to look at him. "Steve?"

Steve sighed and closed his eyes. "I'd...rather not think about last Christmas."

_Winter had pulled off the bandage he'd just placed there, and now his blood poured onto the floor. His whole arm was covered in it, as was the knife he still clutched in his metal fingers. What little of Winter's face that showed above the mask was deathly pale, almost as white as the floor underneath him. His eyes were closed. He wasn't moving._

"Oh." Bucky lay back down and fell silent.

Great. Now Steve had made Bucky feel guilty about it. It _had_ been Winter who had made it difficult to enjoy the holiday last year, after all. He'd been sullen and taciturn, thrown Steve's ill-considered gift back in his face, and then tried to kill himself. Though Steve didn't blame him for any of it, Bucky probably felt bad at this reminder of where he'd been. Well, if the day was ruined now, this time it was _Steve's_ fault...

Suddenly Bucky sat up and said briskly, "Let's do presents."

"Huh?" But before he could do more than process what he'd said, Bucky was out the door and heading for his room on the other side of the suite's common room.

Slowly, Steve sat up. Was Bucky angry? He couldn't tell. Reluctantly, he got out of bed and crossed over to his closet. On the shelf was a roll of paper, held closed with a bright red ribbon. He picked it up carefully and took it out to the common room he shared with Bucky.

The common room consisted of a few chairs and a couch around a coffee table, as well as a large desk set up so that two people could use it at once, each using their own computer. A large flat screen was mounted on the wall opposite the couch, and the window offered a lovely view of the grounds. Two bedrooms branched off the common room, one on each side. They had their own bathroom on the side opposite the window, next to the door leading into the hallway.

Bucky was already sitting on the couch, holding what looked like a shoebox. The two of them and Sam had agreed that this year, they had to make their presents for each other themselves. Bucky had complained that this gave Steve an unfair advantage, since he was always drawing pictures anyway and Bucky had no creative talents whatsoever. Steve was curious to see what he'd eventually come up with.

Steve sat on the other end of the couch and handed over his gift. "Merry Christmas, Buck," he said, trying to smile.

"Okay, yours first," Bucky said, pressing the shoebox into Steve's hands.

Steve examined the box more closely. Bucky had covered it with brown paper, then decorated it with stickers and shapes cut out of colored paper. The stickers were all Captain America-themed: shields, stylized A's that looked like the Avengers logo, cute cartoony depictions of himself posing... Bucky had also cut snowflakes out of white paper—though Steve found himself wondering if they were meant to symbolize Christmas or Bucky himself. On the lid, made with letters cut out of red and green paper, read _To Steve From Bucky._

The smile on Steve's face grew a little more genuine. "It's adorable."

"Just open it already."

Steve pulled the lid off to discover that it was filled with envelopes, some thicker than others. All of them had a month written on the front. Sitting on top of all the envelopes was a postcard with a picture of polar bears ice skating. Steve flipped it over to find a brief message written there.

_Merry Christmas!_

_Inside this box is one year's worth of letters from me. Doesn't quite make up for all the years I couldn't write, but I hope you like them anyway. I ran out of time to write you a letter for every day, but you at least get one a month. No reading ahead until you get to that date!_

Steve eagerly opened the envelope labeled _December 2015._ It only held one letter, a folded piece of paper with _December 25_ written on the back.

_Dear Steve,_

_Well, now that I'm actually starting this, I don't really know what to say. It's so surreal to think that we've been together again for more than a year. And it's been the best time of my life. You know that, right? Have I told you? Have I thanked you enough times?_

_I used to hate the cold and the snow. I mean, I still don't like getting cold, but now I can have fun in the snow too. I can remember now why we always used to get so excited about it. And I can also remember all the excitement about Christmas now too. The lights, the tree, the food..._

_You gave that to me. Do you realize that? You gave me Christmas again._

_Sorry, this probably isn't that great of a gift if it's just me thanking you for everything you've done. But I know you, Steve. I know you never take enough credit for all the amazing things you've done for me. So let me remind you of just a few things I'm grateful for today._

_A year ago, I was depressed out of my mind. I was listening to that liar in my head and drowning in its poison. It told me you were going to abandon me. Did I ever tell you that I heard some of the stuff you talked about with Sam that night? I realize now that I must have misunderstood what you meant, but the monster kept telling me you were giving up on me. And if you gave up, I figured that must mean there was no hope for me._

_But I was completely wrong about you. I was completely wrong about myself. You saw all the things I couldn't, and you didn't let me give up._

_Do you know what it's like to fail at suicide? To wake up, knowing that the only reason you're breathing is that someone wanted a world with you in it?_

_I didn't have the words for it yet, and I couldn't figure it out at the time, but looking back now...I realize that was the first time I really saw what it meant that you love me. You wanted me to live...and that was the only reason I was breathing._

_I _love_ Christmas now, and it's not just because of the presents. Or maybe I should say, it's not because of the presents I'm going to get. It's because of the best present you ever gave me. It's because I'm alive._

_I just wish I had something to give you that would make you feel this kind of joy. But I guess I'll just have to leave it at:_

_Thank you, Steve._

_I love you._

_Bucky_

Steve only realized tears were filling his eyes when one plopped onto the corner of the page in his hand. He drew a deep breath, carefully set the box and the letter down on the table, then turned to Bucky and hugged him with all his might.

"Thank you," he mumbled when he finally managed to find his voice again. "Thank you."

Bucky patted him on the back, holding him close. "You like it?"

Steve squeezed his best friend as hard as he could. "I _love_ it."

With a chuckle, Bucky ruffled his hair. "I meant the box, not _me,_ you dork."

"I meant what I said," he sniffled.

When they pulled apart, Bucky was smiling at him with such fondness, there was no room in Steve's heart for sadness anymore. Yes, this Christmas was _very_ different from last year.

"Okay, now it's your turn," Steve said, mopping at his eyes with his sleeve.

Bucky picked up the rolled-up paper and carefully untied the ribbon holding it closed. It was a drawing Steve had based off a selfie Sam had taken a few days after Bucky had removed his mask, back in July. At one edge of the picture was half of Sam's grinning face, as he pointed his thumb over his shoulder at Steve and Bucky sitting on a couch behind him.

Steve was laughing out loud, his head tipped back and a hand on his chest as if to hold himself together. Bucky sat next to him, beaming at him and practically _glowing_ with joy and affection.

"And that's what _you_ gave me," Steve said softly, watching Bucky examine his gift with a slowly-growing smile. "You helped me laugh again, you and Sam." He slung an arm around Bucky's shoulders. "I know what that joy feels like."

* * *

It was fun, having the whole place to themselves. Steve and Bucky raced each other down the long hallways, seeing who could slide farther in the wool socks Darlene had crocheted for them. They made a huge mess in the kitchen, cooking eggs and bacon and blueberry muffins for breakfast, and then splashing each other while cleaning up afterwards. They belted out Christmas carols at the top of their lungs, not caring if they got off-key or forgot some of the words. They put a cheesy Christmas movie on the huge screen that looked like a private theatre, and didn't have to worry about anyone teasing them.

Bucky was slowly growing more used to living with the other Avengers, but he still felt awkward and self-conscious some of the time. It wasn't as bad as it had been at Thanksgiving, especially since he could always escape to his own room or out on the extensive grounds when it all became too much. And he _was_ growing to like some of them quite a bit. Wanda was always kind to him, perfectly willing to sit silently with him and not make him feel awkward. And though he still didn't feel perfectly at ease with Natasha yet, he liked watching her tease Steve and Sam.

Still, even though he was working hard to find his place here, it was wonderfully relaxing to get Steve all to himself for once. In so many ways, he felt like he'd reverted to childhood when he'd left Hydra. Now, apparently, he had to relearn how to share. Steve had a lot more responsibilities now that Bucky was adjusting to normal life and didn't require constant help. And Bucky had to let him keep those responsibilities. Sometimes, that just meant less time for Bucky.

Throughout the day, Steve and Bucky periodically sampled one of the gifts Sam had given them: a tin full of homemade cookies he'd somehow managed to bake right here at headquarters without them noticing. He'd baked and decorated all kinds of cookies—gingerbread men that looked like the three of them, sugar cookies decorated like Steve's shield or cut in festive shapes, even some _properly_ made Russian tea cakes, which Bucky knew were a jab at him.

In the afternoon, they sat down and listened to the other gift Sam had made for them: a playlist of songs he'd picked out just for them. Most of the songs were silly or composed of some kind of inside joke, like "Walking in a Winter Wonderland" or "Holding out for a Hero." Bucky laughed, amazed at how good Sam was at teasing them even when he wasn't there.

A few of the songs in the middle were more serious and heartfelt; Bucky couldn't decide if he felt more touched or amused at a song called "Wind Beneath My Wings." The last song began, and Bucky decided it was probably another serious one. He still wasn't used to modern music, but he was pretty sure—

"_And IIIIIII will always looooooooove youuuuuuuuu!"_

Steve and Bucky's eyes met, and they burst into laughter. They laughed until tears rolled down their cheeks.

Once they'd finished listening to all the songs, they pulled out their phones to send Sam a quick word of thanks. Bucky saw that Sam had beaten them to it.

He'd sent them a picture of a small black book lying on what looked like a flowered bedspread. _You guys are the best,_ was all he said.

Steve smiled, glancing up from his phone. "Looks like your idea was a winner."

"_My_ idea? You were the one who coordinated it all...made sure everyone kept it a secret and everything..."

"And you pulled it all together," Steve said. "Besides, you came up with the idea in the first place."

Bucky shrugged awkwardly. "All I said was that I wished Sam knew how many people's lives he'd changed for the better."

Steve nodded smugly. "Exactly."

Bucky couldn't think of anything to say, so he just looked back down at the picture of the scrapbook they'd made for Sam. It was full of letters and photos from dozens and dozens of people that Sam knew. Steve and Bucky had started with Sam's family and the other Avengers, asking them to pass the word on to anyone else they had contact with who might want to say a few words.

For the past few weeks, the messages had come pouring in. Friends, relatives, fellow soldiers...a woman named Rachel, who had sent a photo of a toddler named after him... All of them had only good things to say about Sam. Some of them just sent a quick word of thanks and well wishes, others wrote pages upon pages about how much they owed Sam. Some of his brothers in arms recounted stories of how he'd saved their lives. And of course Steve and Bucky had also done their best to put into words how much they appreciated what he'd done for them.

Hopefully, Sam was beginning to get the picture. Sam deserved a whole bookcase filled with scrapbooks like that.

* * *

The day was easily the best Christmas Steve had celebrated since before the war. The only thing missing was snow. The sky had been cloud-free for a week, so Steve had given up on having a white Christmas this year.

But then, as the sun was beginning to set that afternoon, Steve glanced out the window to find little specks falling through the air. "Bucky, look!" Steve cried, rushing over to peer outside. "Snow!"

As Bucky walked over to the window much more calmly to see for himself, Steve remembered that Bucky didn't care for snow anymore. Gone were the days of snowball fights and staying out till their fingers and toes were practically ice cubes. It was understandable—Bucky had now spent the majority of his life frozen, and he associated the cold with pain and humiliation. It made perfect sense that Bucky would prefer to stay in out of the cold and bundle up as much as possible when venturing out.

"Let's go outside," Bucky suddenly said.

Steve looked at him with surprise. "Really? You want to?"

Bucky shrugged with a lopsided grin. "It'll make the hot chocolate taste better."

By the time they'd bundled up in coats, hats, scarves, and gloves, the sun had set and the light began to fade beneath the slate-grey sky. Steve could only see the snowflakes in the light streaming from the windows, or when he tipped his head back and saw them swirling against the sky like lazy flies. But he could feel them as tiny needles of ice pricking his nose and forehead.

Steve and Bucky walked slowly down towards the lake, which was edged with ice but not completely frozen over. The air was still and silent, not yet muffled with snow, but the whole world seemed to be holding its breath.

They came to a stop by the edge of the lake, not saying a word and not even letting their footsteps disturb the silence. Steve could hear the tiny pattering sounds of snowflakes hitting the dead leaves and blades of grass all around them. It was like raindrops that were whispering. What secret were they telling?

A sudden breeze blew past them, clattering the dead branches of trees and sending leaves rustling along the ground. The water lapped against the dock, and Steve blinked rapidly as the cold wind sent snowflakes whirling into his eyes. A wispy cloud blew past, and the first star winked in the darkening sky.

"Beautiful," Bucky breathed.

Steve murmured his agreement.

"Funny," Bucky mumbled into his scarf. "How I never noticed. Even when it's dark and cold...you can still see the stars. Guess I just never looked up."

Steve had fallen into that hole as well—living life staring at his feet, not knowing the stars were right there, close enough to touch. He'd been so alone. Lost. Searching desperately for that north star that would lead him home. He'd just taken a long time to realize which direction to look.

Two gloved hands found each other in the darkness. They stood there for a long time, watching the stars appear one by one.

* * *

Even the best days had to come to a close. They hadn't really done much today—mostly just sitting around talking, or else stuffing their faces with holiday goodies—but Bucky wished it had lasted twice as long.

Tomorrow, Sam would be back. One by one, the others would return as well, until life resumed its normal course. The new normal that still tended to shove Bucky back into his shell with aggravating frequency. It wasn't a bad life, not by any means. He would never give up his friendship with Sam, and he _did_ like the others. He liked them the way he had instantly liked the other Howling Commandos, even before he'd gotten to know them personally. The common thread that held them all together was that they valued the same things, and they followed the same leader. That was how they knew they could trust each other.

But even back then, there had been times Bucky had needed to get away from the crowd, and just sit in silence with the person who knew him best. That was what this day was about. And he was more grateful for it than he had words to express.

After the snow, after warming up with hot chocolate and marshmallows, after eating a supper of leftovers Darlene had insisted on giving them the day before, they made a fire in the one real fireplace in the building. It was in a small sitting room tucked away in the back, hardly ever used. Though there was a gas fireplace in the main living room, and the temperature of the whole building was usually at a comfortable level, it just wasn't the same as a real wood fire.

While Bucky coaxed the fire into a real blaze, Steve went to fetch a couple blankets and turned off the room's thermostat. The fire would keep things toasty on its own.

Once they had a steady fire going, they pulled one of the couches directly in front of the fireplace and curled up under the blankets, at a perfect distance where they could feel the fire's warmth but not get overheated. At least, _Bucky_ didn't get overheated even though he tucked the blanket under his chin. Steve only bothered to cover his legs, and pushed his sleeves up to his elbows.

Bucky lounged on the couch, gazing into the fire sleepily. He was warm, he was full, and their legs overlapped on the couch as they sat facing each other. He was so comfortable he felt like he could drift off at any moment, but he wanted to stay awake. He wanted to savor this for as long as he could.

"Stevie?" he murmured. "You love me?"

There was a pause, and Bucky suddenly realized how that had sounded. As if he doubted. As if _anyone_ could actually _doubt_ that after all this time.

When he peeked over at Steve, he was relieved to see that though he looked confused, at least he didn't look hurt. That was the last thing Bucky wanted. Before answering, Steve sat up straight and shuffled over, nudging Bucky's legs out of the way and squeezing himself between Bucky and the back of the couch. Deep as the couch was, it wasn't really wide enough for two to sit sideways on it. Bucky ended up practically in Steve's lap as he wormed his way around behind him to wrap his arms around Bucky.

Steve rested his chin on Bucky's shoulder with a sigh. "You know I love you, Buck."

Bucky nodded, settling back in Steve's arms. He tried to decide if he could feel Steve's heart beating against his back, or if that was just his imagination. "Did you love me last year?"

_Last year, when I scorned every gift you ever gave me? Last year, when you stopped me from ending it all? Last year, when you somehow decided I was worth saving?_

"You know I did," Steve murmured in his ear.

The fire flickered and danced in their eyes. Always changing. Always the same. "Will you love me next year?"

Steve held him tight. "You know I will."

"Will you love me when I'm old?"

"You're already old."

"Will you love me after I die?"

"Already have."

Bucky turned his head and tucked it under Steve's chin, closing his eyes so he could focus on the motion of Steve's chest as he breathed. "Me too. You know that, right?"

"Yes."

They said no more, because no more needed to be said. And the fire burned on.

* * *

_Abide in my love... These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full._

_\- John 15:9, 11_

* * *

**Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear any thoughts you have. If you're interested in receiving regular updates on my writing progress, please see my profile.**


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